


begin again

by bleep0bleep



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Deputy Derek Hale, Deputy Stiles Stilinski, Fluff, Jock Stiles, M/M, Misunderstandings, Nerd Derek, Pining, School Reunion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-07
Updated: 2016-06-07
Packaged: 2018-07-12 19:24:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7119328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bleep0bleep/pseuds/bleep0bleep
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ten years ago Derek turned down Stiles for prom.</p>
<p>Now it's high school reunion time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	begin again

**Author's Note:**

  * For [scruffysterek](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scruffysterek/gifts).



> Huge thanks to the lovely mods over at [Glompfest](http://tw-glompfest.tumblr.com) for coming up with such a fun idea to appreciate so many lovely people! 
> 
> I took your "nerd Derek and jock Stiles" prompt and ran with it, I hope you enjoy!

Derek stares at the banner hanging above the doors of his old high school and scowls. “WELCOME BACK!” it proclaims in some gaudy font. Ugh, Beacon Hills High School. Possibly the worst four years of Derek’s life.

There’s still gum stuck on the concrete steps up to the double doors, the hallways still smell vaguely of sweat and teenage hormones, and despite the glittering lights coming from the gymnasium it still is very much a high school.

Despite how he still feels about Beacon Hills and his own high school experience, Derek grits his teeth and walks through the open doors, Erica beside him. It’s a good use of a Saturday night Derek wouldn’t be doing anything otherwise, and Erica really wanted to go.

She’s pulling awkwardly at her dress, a long navy blue evening gown that looks stunning on her.

“You look great, don’t worry about it,” Derek says. He wouldn’t have gone to the high school reunion if Erica hadn’t balefully stared at her own invitation on and off for the last month and kept not-so-subtly asking Derek if he’s heard from Vernon Boyd since he moved back into town.

Erica pauses, her heels clacking on the linoleum tile as they head towards the gym. “You hated this place. I’m so sorry! I shouldn’t have make you come back here. I just…”

Derek turns to Erica and calmly places his hands on her shoulders. “Look, you said it yourself. If you don’t see him tonight and talk to him you’ll never know. Erica, really, you’ve been in love with him since freshman year.”

Erica nods, a fierce glint coming into her eyes. “I’m gonna tell him.”

“You’re gonna tell him,” Derek affirms.

Erica seizes him in a quick hug. “Thank you so much for coming! I wouldn’t have been able to face this place alone.”

Derek nods. “Of course.”

He’s grateful too for her presence as they enter the crowded gym. It’s been decorated in sparkling maroon banners and balloons, and a few disco lights attempt to bring some color to the empty dance floor, but it’s very much the same place Derek remembers.

_“Hey, Bugs Bunny! Need a carrot?”_

_The group of seniors walk past in their varsity jackets, laughing at each other, crowding the hallway. One of them turns back and guffaws at Derek, still trying to blend in with the lockers._

_“What’s up, Doc?” he yells, and his buddies laugh._

Derek runs his tongue over his smooth teeth; it’s a reflexive habit now whenever he feels self-conscious. He got braces sophomore year but he always felt very aware of his prominent front teeth. The teasing didn’t last long after freshman year, but Derek had pretty much learned his place: he was a nerd, with his preference to sit inside during lunch time and study or to play _Dungeons and Dragons_ with Erica and the rest of the small tabletop gaming club at BHHS.

Puberty had not been kind to him; Derek had shot up like a weed, tall and lanky and never felt right in his skin those teenage years. Plus growing up a werewolf meant a double dose of puberty shenanigans; Derek was constantly overwhelmed trying to figure out how to control his senses, trying not to shift on accident, and being in the crowded school full of hormones and unfamiliar scents was a constant struggle. Plus, it wasn’t like he would have been able to go out for any sports teams even if he’d been interested; performing _too_ well would have been suspicious.

“Oh! I see Boyd!” Erica says, nearly vibrating with excitement. “Derek, he’s waving at me! I’m going to say hi!”

“Good luck,” Derek says, and Erica dashes off, blonde curls bouncing.

The DJ starts to play a jangly pop song called _Begin With Me._ Derek recognizes it from the Top 40’s when he was a senior. It brings back memories of a prom he didn’t go to, the one named after the song. It’s a terribly cheesy romantic thing, whose lyrics were simple and sweet. The song was that band’s one hit wonder for that year, and it’s largely been forgotten aside from pop nostalgics.

Derek’s frozen, stuck in place, thinking about _that_ memory.

_It’s automatic that the sight of a letterman varsity jacket will make Derek want to lean into the lockers, to disappear, even if no one has called him Bugs Bunny for years. He knows he’s nobody, and he likes it that way._

_This particular varsity jacket seems to be heading right for him._

_Oh. Stiles Stilinski._

_Like Derek, he’s a senior, but unlike Derek, he’s one of the popular crowd, on the lacrosse team, talks back to teachers like it’s nothing, has that winning smirk, openly bi, and everyone at some point has had a crush on him._

_Derek is no exception._

_Stiles strides down the hall like he owns it, high-fiving kids as he passes and tossing casual finger-guns at another, and “See you at the party, Greenberg!” down the hall._

_He’s walking right for Derek._

_Outside of the two weeks they were lab partners in Chemistry, Derek’s barely talked to him, but knows Stiles is way out of his league. The guy’s best friends with Scott McCall, student body president, Lydia Martin, undisputed genius, and Allison Argent, probably the only person BHHS has ever known to qualify for the Olympics._

_Derek had a brief fantasy of asking Stiles out that time when they worked together; he’d liked the way their hands looked next to each other on the lab table, felt a thrill of delight every time their shoulders brushed or when Stiles would lean close._

_But Stiles was a jock. A popular one. There was no way he’d ever go for Derek._

_“Hey!”_

_Derek turns around, but there’s no one next to him, or behind him._

_“Derek!” Stiles says brightly._

_“Hi,” Derek ventures. “Did you need something?”_

_“Yeah,” Stiles says, leaning in. He smells like peppermint. He grins, and the moles on his cheek dance a little with the movement. Derek can’t look away._

_Derek stares at those amber eyes for a good minute before Stiles finally says. “So. Prom.”_

_“Prom,” Derek repeats. There’s a poster behind Stiles announcing it and the theme. It’s only a week away._

_At the end of the hallway, Derek spots a few varsity-jacketed guys lingering. Like they’re watching. Stiles rubs his head and glances back at them; one of them gives him a thumbs up._

_A chill runs down Derek’s spine, and his suspicions are only confirmed when Stiles quirks his lip and asks, “Would you like to go with me?”_

_Stiles and his buddies must have found out about Derek’s crush somehow, or maybe they hadn’t, either way, how funny they must have thought it would be to ask poor nerdy awkward Derek to prom and then— what? Laugh it off as a joke? Go through with it to humiliate him on the night of?_

_“No!” It comes out more of a shout than Derek expected._

_“What?” Stiles blinks, steps back, his face falling._

_“No, never, I would never go to prom with you!” Derek pushes past Stiles, racing off down the hallway._

“Derek? Derek Hale?”

He’s jolted back to reality, and for a moment his vision is unfocused; there are couples on the dance floor now, swaying to a song that has had its heyday ten years ago. He blinks and looks up.

The years have been good to Stiles; he’s wearing a crisp suit, unbuttoned to show a bright pink shirt, open at the collar to reveal his long, graceful neck. He smiles at Derek.

It’s a little bittersweet, how gorgeous he’s looking now.

“Hi,” Derek says, hesitantly, the memory of that prank still burned in his mind.

Stiles jerks his head at the dance floor. “Haven’t heard this one in ages. I’m surprised they dug it out for this shindig.”

Derek shrugs. “It was overplayed that year, but enough to make an impression, I guess.”

There’s a quick catch up; Stiles has just moved back to Beacon Hills from San Francisco, where he was recently promoted to detective, but has come back for the small-town life. Rumor has it he’s angling to take over for Sheriff for his father.  

“I hope I won’t be stepping on your shoes, Deputy,” Stiles says lightly.

“Not at all,” Derek says, raising an eyebrow. “Although I can’t promise you the same level of excitement as there was in the city. Your dad sure is glad you’re back in town, though.”

Stiles nods. “It’s good to be back.”

The song is still playing, the singer crooning about _how nice it would be to begin again…_

“You sure it won’t be weird, though? I mean, working together. Since you probably still hate me and all.”

“I— what?”

Stiles gives him a blank look. “I mean, I could be projecting but turning me down for prom really loudly and publicly and then avoiding me for the rest of the school year pretty much sent a really strong message, you know? I thought…”

He furrows his eyebrows. “Yeah, I don’t know what I thought. I just saw you standing here so I wanted to say hi, since we’ll both be… yeah…” Stiles trails off, looking towards the dance floor.

_Can we begin again, would you like to begin again…_ the song croons on, yearning, wistful.

Derek glances over at Stiles, who seems to be focused on the swaying crowd, ever so often looking at Derek out of the corner of his eyes. His ears are pink, and the way he said Derek _turned him down…_

“Wait. You— you asked me to prom as a joke, though!” Derek says.

“What? No way. Why would you think that?” Stiles stares at him, mouth dropping open in horror. “I spent like everyday during Chemistry resisting making some awful pun about us and having chemistry and trying to figure out how to ask you out! And then I did and it was like you hated the idea of it, of me, so I just backed off!”

“You were a jock!” Derek says in disbelief. “Every one of them used to make fun of me and I— I was a huge dweeb! I had huge front teeth!”

“Cute,” Stiles insists. “Cute bunny teeth.”

Derek’s head is spinning. Stiles thinks his teeth are cute? Stiles liked him? Wanted to ask him out every day when they were lab partners?

Oh God, Stiles did actually ask him to prom. And Derek yelled at him and ran away.

“Alright, well it’s been nice catching up. I guess I will see you at the office—”

“Do you want to dance?” Derek blurts out.

“What?”

“Dance,” Derek jerks his head at the dance floor. It’s not his smoothest moment, but he’s never been smooth. His heart is pounding lightning fast, blood running hot with nervousness. “The song, it would have played at prom, I think. It’s about ten years too late, but if you’d still like to, I’d love to dance with you.”

Stiles nods at him and follows him out onto the dance floor, and they settle in close; Derek puts his hands on Stiles’ waist and can feel the heat of his body radiating through his suit. It makes him nervous, and he can feel a hot blush creeping up his own cheeks like he’s a teenager again, excited at the mere thought of touching Stiles.

Feeling brave, Derek leans in close until his face is a mere inches away from Stiles’. “I had such a big crush on you,” he admits.

“Oh good, me too,” Stiles says. “Do you remember that experiment we did where we had to extract caffeine from coffee?”

“Yeah,” Derek says fondly, remembering having to stop Stiles from licking the final product.

“I wanted to kiss you then. You wanted to protect me from the bad bad pure caffeine, it was so cute.”

Stiles is very close now, and Derek sees how those eyes drop to his own lips.

“Would you have kissed me at prom?” Derek asks, his voice barely a whisper.

Stiles pulls him a little closer; they’re chest to chest now, Stiles feels impossibly warm. “Yeah. Maybe during this song, even though I know it’s cheesy. It’s like asking to start, you know, and maybe I would have asked you to be my boyfriend…”

His breath is warm and flutters across Derek’s cheek like a soft breeze.

He closes his eyes.

The song at that moment ends, and the DJ immediately transitions to another one; upbeat and fast. The crowd around them breaks into joyous cheers and the couples around them break apart, dancing wildly to the new song.

Derek lets go of Stiles’ waist, the moment is gone.

Stiles winks at him and takes his hand, squeezes it. “You wouldn’t by any chance be wanting to stay for the rest of the festivities, would you?”

Derek takes a brief look at the crowded gym, the gaudy banners, the has-been DJ playing old songs, the sad-looking buffet in the corner. Erica and Boyd are looking cozy on the other end of the gym; mission accomplished there. “Not really. Did you want to go get a coffee or something?”

“Well, I was going to say make out in the parking lot like teenagers, but that sounds good too.” Stiles’ grin is infectious, and it makes Derek’s heart race again.

“I … would not be opposed to making out in the parking lot.”

“Great! It’ll be fun, we still have lots of time before any deputies patrol for people parking—”

“Stiles, we _are_ the deputies. Or rather, I am. I don’t think you start till Monday.”

Stiles’ laugh is one of pure glee, and he takes Derek by the hand and all but drags him out the doors. The parking lot is dismal looking but Derek thinks it might be the most beautiful place in the world, the way the street lamps light up Stiles’ eager eyes and how he tenderly cups Derek’s chin in his hands, like he’s precious.

Derek moves first, catching Stiles’ lips, thinking of the ten years he’s missed out on because of that simple misunderstanding. Stiles’ mouth is warm and wet and opens for him with a pleased, yearning sound.

 

* * *

 

On Monday morning Sheriff Stilinski takes one look inside the holding cell, takes in the frumpled pieces of Derek’s deputy uniform on the floor, and Stiles’ brand new deputy uniform scattered haphazardly about the cell, and the handcuffs.

“Sir, this isn’t— I mean, um—”

“Dad! Ah! I forgot you had early morning shift, we just were having such a good weekend and I didn’t want to be late for work Monday morning so I thought we could just come in early but then Derek looked so good in his uniform and I—”

Sheriff Stilinski puts his hands up and turns around, walking back towards the main office. “I don’t want to know. Also, congratulations. But I don’t want to know.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I'm on tumblr [here](http://bleep0bleep.tumblr.com) if you wanna say hi!


End file.
